


Lifeline

by SaadieStuff



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Alex being way too good for this world, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, M/M, Michael is in a very bad place, Michael says some mean things to goad Alex, Past Child Abuse, Self-Destruction, Smut, there is yelling, they're going to be okay though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-26
Updated: 2019-05-26
Packaged: 2020-03-18 00:55:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18975607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaadieStuff/pseuds/SaadieStuff
Summary: Post 1x13, Michael is in a dark place and falling into old habits. He's hurt Alex, maybe irreparably this time, but he goes to him anyways.





	Lifeline

**Author's Note:**

> For the anonymous prompt I received on tumblr: "“That’s not what I meant and you know it!” malex angst with happy ending?"  
> So I definitely got the angst in there, and the quote, and the ending is at least... err... hopeful?

He's been waiting at Alex's door for several long minutes, trying to convince himself to knock.

Plan B is to head to Costco and buy a flat of nail polish remover. He might have to steal it - funds are low after nearly a month of binging, bail, and skipping work.

Yes, he’s ready to spiral again, because being out of control is better than whatever _this_ is. But he finds he doesn’t want to slip away into that abyss, not without first trying a tug on the lifeline that is Alex.

Michael _wants_ the soft Alex who’d held him last week, who’d whispered soothing things in his ear, told him he was strong and loved and _good_ , who’d stroked his hair as he puked - while Maria cowered in the corner of the shaking airstream as it solidified in her confused mind that the localized earthquakes had all been caused by Michael. He wants the Alex who had talked him off the ledge of bad and worse decisions with words Michael hadn't even heard, the abstract sound of Alex's voice, the idea that he was waiting on the other side, had been enough.

But he’d scared Alex into that tenderness with what a disaster he’d been that night, hadn’t he? Now, he figures he'll get angry-Alex. The Alex he and Maria hurt. (Not like they haven’t hurt each other before. It’s not new, but it is, with Maria in the mix.) It's the Alex he deserves, isn't it?

Today, Michael isn’t a disaster, not yet, but he needs to feel _something_. He needs to feel something other than the pain of loss of Max and his mom and the life he could have had with her instead of the crappy lot of foster homes and abuse he'd been handed. The knowledge that what he'd experienced had still been infinitely better than what his family had endured for _decades_ twisted his gut in knots of guilt and white hot anger.

A reprieve, that's all he's been seeking these weeks since he lost them, and he hasn't found it, not in the numbness in the bottom of every bottle, or in the sting of bruises following the hollow adrenaline of bar fights, or in the tremors of his body in her hands.

So he’s trying something new: not a drop of acetone today. It's been years since he's gone without a sip and it already feels like his joints grind together without it; he's cranky, and achy and _itchy_ , in a way he can’t describe, and nothing helps.

There’s only Alex left.

He’d prefer if Alex would take him gently, slowly, in some way, flooding his mind with music, or hold him - just that - so he can sleep, or claim his body skin to skin. But he doesn’t think Alex wants any of that. So Alex being angry at him? Getting a rise out of him? That’ll have to do - just something to fill Michael up other than this darkness that makes him think about crawling into his pod and staying there. Anything Alex can give him right now, he’ll take, he’ll take every drop, because even Alex screaming at him would at least taste like _something_ when he’s had nothing but acetone for days.

So he’ll pick a fight like he’s been doing for weeks. Except this time it’s with Alex, the person he’s safest with, who will never hurt him, except that he has, over and over. Alex can hurt him the most.

“We broke up,” Michael says simply when Alex opens the door, before Michael's even found the courage to knock.

Alex says nothing. He’s not sorry.

Michael panics immediately. Indifferent-Alex? That’s not something he can handle.

“It’s your fault. I hope you’re happy,” Michael says cruelly, spitting the words out. It’s utterly uncalled for and he knows it.

“Excuse me?" Alex balks, letting his anger bubble to the surface, but maintaining tight control of it, "You come to my door to blame me? Because lying to her about your miraculously healed hand, drowning in sorrow over the death of your ‘parole officer’, then chasing after Isobel following the mysterious disappearance of her husband, yeah, I bet that made Maria feel _real_ special.”

Oh, Alex is playing right into Michael’s hands. The air already electric, the sickening ache in Michael’s heart quickly yielding to something sharper that makes him feel awake.

“Nah, I think it was her watching me spiral in front of her face worse and worse for weeks, and when it got real bad, realizing only you could pull me out of the nose dive," Michael sneers.

“Yeah, that was fun. Cleaning you up for _her_. So you’d be that guy she likes,” Alex barks sarcastically.

“Well you did a shit job of clean up. Leaving her to pick up the pieces of something she has no idea about.”

“The fact that you couldn’t be honest with her about what you are is not my problem, Guerin.”

“Then you should have left us alone!” Michael shouts.

“I tried! But Maria called me at two in the morning when she was scared and confused, telling me your drunk-ass was getting beat up and you _might_ have caused an earthquake? What the fuck was I supposed to do? Sit back and watch you destroy your life? Expose yourself?”

“It’s my life!”

Alex shakes his head. “No, no, Guerin, you don’t get to do this,” he says, firm, like an order.

Michael huffs out a harsh breath, voice turning icy,  “Yeah, there it is, right? You just won’t let me go. You’ll suffocate me before you ever do.”

“What? No--” Alex begins to protest.

“Yes! I belong you to. ‘You are _mine’_ , that’s what you said," Michael snaps back.

“Oh, _come_ _on,_ Guerin!” Alex says, exasperated, **“That’s not what I meant and you know it!”**

“Not the _only_ way, maybe, but you said it, and you meant it. Only one of us was lying that day.”

Alex grits his teeth. “Fine! But then it goes both ways, Guerin.”

“Yeah," Michael agrees with a resigned drawl.

A few beats of quiet and the pull is irresistible for both of them.

They kiss, hard, sloppy, ruthless, stumbling through the doorway, bouncing off walls, something floating and smashing across the room as Michael surges.

Yet Alex’s anger from moments ago drains away, like Michael is siphoning it out of him for sustenance. Alex has to pry himself away.

“Wait, wait,” Alex says softly, resting his forehead against Michael's. “You’re not okay.”

“I’m stone cold sober and it fucking sucks, but I am," Michael assures him.

“That’s not the same as being okay,” Alex says gently.

“Never made you turn me down before,” Michael shrugs and spins away, putting distance between them.

“I'm just... checking in," Alex says simply, running a hand through his hair as he tries to slow the frantic pounding of his heart, "I’m not turning you down."

He's ready to be what Michael needs, though not at the expense of himself, but right now he feels buoyant, like he can swim for two for a while.

“Yes, you are. Is it because you’re pissed about Maria? When I kissed you did you wonder if I’d kissed her like that?” Michael goads, made almost wild by Alex's sudden zen.

Alex resists the urge to sigh - Michael’s trying _way_ too hard that it doesn’t even hurt Alex to hear Michael say such things. Instead he just stares at Michael, because he gets it now, and he’s going to let Michael pick this fight. At least Michael is safe here with him.

Michael subconsciously takes the patience in Alex's eyes as permission to continue, though really it should tell him that it's pointless.

“You haven’t had a chance to get that all off your chest yet because I went and got all broken, huh? But I’ve got news for you Alex - you broke me first, a long time ago. And then you kept some of the pieces.”

“I never meant to do that,” Alex says calmly even as his throat tightens, “The pieces - you and I - got mixed altogether. I was just trying to collect enough of them to make a whole person. And I think I have now, almost. But while I was doing that, you… you went through something. You witnessed an _atrocity._ So, as pissed and hurt as I am, I’m trying to cut you some slack, because I’ve seen my fair share, and they fuck you up. Nevermind the fact that my father was the one who committed it against your--”

“I don’t want to talk about that!” Michael booms.

Michael had come to Alex wanting to be held, but had so prepared himself for a screaming match, that energy suddenly having nowhere to go, nothing to push back on, it might just burst right out of his chest and split him open.

“Can’t you just-- can’t you-- give me something Alex!? Think about it, I started up with your best friend, and-- and--”

“Yeah, and between the two of you, you couldn’t even muster up enough courtesy to talk to me first. I’m aware,” Alex says dryly, “But, honestly Guerin - and maybe this makes me pathetic..." he shakes his head ruefully, "...but, hell, you and Maria could get married in my fucking backyard and it wouldn't make me angry enough to swear you off for good."

Michael just cracks, a harsh laughter escaping his mouth, real and deep enough to feel it in his empty belly. He’s clearly not going to get the anger he craves, but maybe he can get something else equally fiery. A wicked grin spreads across his face as he takes several quick steps towards Alex.

“Oh, Alex, I don’t think that would be a good idea. You know how trashy it is for the groom to fuck the Man of Honour on his wedding day?”

Michael's voice is no longer harsh. It's rough, yet silky smooth, telling Alex exactly _how_ that fuck would go.

Alex doesn't flinch.

“You know it'd happen," Michael continues casually, "And it wouldn't be the first or the last time either. Sure you'd leave town, go halfway across the world, even - you have before - but you'd be back in a few years for some sorry excuse. By then, Maria and I have one half-alien kid and another on the way - and gee, we better hope the little tots don’t mouth on mom's favourite necklace filled with alien poison--”

“Wait, wha--?” Alex asks in confusion.

Michael just talks over him, “We run into each other, make awkward small talk, tension _thick_..."

He takes another step towards Alex. Alex still doesn’t budge. Michael licks his lips.

"We move to go our separate ways, and our elbows just clip each other as we pass..." Michael says smoothly, continuing his approach, "but it's enough to spark that connection that makes you want me _so bad_ the whole world disappears."

Michael has moved so close to Alex that their entire bodies are mere inches apart, and only now does Alex allow himself to be walked back, his head thudding gently against the wall as he becomes flush with it.

"Next thing you know we're all tangled up together... _hard_... _desperate_..." Michael says slowly as he finally touches Alex, first dragging his fingers down Alex's chest, waiting for Alex to tell him 'no', and when he doesn't, dancing over his belt before cupping Alex firmly to make his point.

Alex's hand follows, fingers encircling Michael's wrist, but not tugging him away - holding him there - serving only to egg Michael on. Michael smirks, and it's genuine, a happy thrill of getting lost the moment.

"Then we stumble off somewhere so I can fuck you proper. Fast, then slow..." Michael pauses to kiss Alex, once, deep, but as Alex responds - he'll find comfort in whatever Michael can give him too - Michael pulls back a fraction, teasing him, like he would.

"Uh, uh. Not until I've licked you open." Michael kisses just the corner of Alex's mouth now, tongue flicking at the seam. "Not until you're _begging_ for my dick," he whispers, “And you will, 'cause you love how hot I run. Yeah, nothing ever made you feel so _warm_ as having me inside you."

Alex shivers against him, the truth of it barely a ghostly caress of the heat he seeks as he willingly gives himself, mind and body, to Michael's story. But Michael answers his desire, pressing the entire line of his body snug against him.

"You never want me to leave, I know, ‘cause that sorrowful little noise you make when I _finally_ slip out out of you, when you feel empty and cold again.”

Alex whines and he lunges to kiss Michael as Michael pushes off him, but Alex gets a hold of him and rolls Michael between his body and the wall, reversing their positions. Alex’s thigh pressed firmly between Michael’s legs wipes the bratty smile off Michael’s face.

“Fuck you,” Alex pants, “You’ll be the one begging.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Michael huffs out in agreement as he ruts helplessly against Alex’s thigh, “Tell me, Alex, come on.”

“Nah, this is your fantasy,” Alex says casually, in the hopes that Michael will keeping talking until he eventually slips up and lets out some of what’s haunting him.

Michael groans frustratedly at Alex’s denial, and pulls him closer.

“You’ll be begging…” Alex prompts him with a whisper, spoken so close that his teeth scrape against the shell of Michael’s ear.  

Michael gulps. “‘Cause-- ‘cause it’ll ‘ve been so long since anyone... _anyone ‘s_ been inside me. Because I won’t ever ask _her._ I couldn’t, because she’d know I'd be thinking of you.”

Michael’s voice cracks unexpectedly over the last words as the horror dawns on him. He breaks softly. Tears flood his eyes. He shudders against Alex.

“Guerin,” Alex says slowly, as he takes a half step back, giving space but staying near.

“I don’t want to play this game anymore,” Michael says, punctuated with sniffles and gaspy breaths as he tries to keep it all inside, crossing his arms across his chest protectively, trying to make that raw, exposed, feeling go away.

“Okay, it’s okay,” Alex says, “Tell me what you need.”

“I’m sorry Alex. I’m so fucking sorry. For what I did. What I said. I don’t know what I’m--”

“I know. I don’t want you to worry about me right now, okay?” Alex says calmly, trying to focus Michael, “I’ve got us. I just need you to tell me what you need first. Just one thing. Food, water, sleep, blow off steam?”

Michael shakes his head. He wants all of those things but he doesn’t think he could do any one of them without doing one of the other options first and it’s making his head spin.

“Can I--?” Alex asks, moving to touch him.

“If it’s just because I’m messed up and you feel bad-- I don’t want to make you do that,” Michael says, starting to twist away.

“You’re not guilting me into anything here. I want to help you because we’re family, Guerin. Because I want you to feel better. Because I care about you.”

Michael allows himself to let go then, stumbling into Alex until he’s wrapped up in strong arms.

“Nothing can fix what happened,” Michael mumbles into the crook of Alex’s neck where he’s buried his face.

“I know. But one day at a time, alright? One thing at a time.”

Michael takes a deep, shaky breath. “One thing.”

“Yeah, that's it," Alex coos, "start with the one thing you need first.”

“You.”


End file.
